Sweet Baby James
by LynstHolin
Summary: Lily/James With James' personality, Lily Evans Potter sometimes feels like she's taking care of two babies instead just one. Short and light.


Very mild suggestiveness and one swear.

...

"Mama. Dada. Come on, sweetheart, you can say it," Lily cajoled. Harry just squirmed, wanting down off her lap so he could toddle around the living room.

"Don't worry, he'll talk when he's ready. Remember how you worried because he never crawled? He never had to. He went right to walking, and look at him now," James said.

Harry was moving at top speed, going so fast that he ran right into an ottoman and bounced off of it, landing on the floor on his diaper-padded bottom. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed. He got up immediately and took off again, heading for the kitchen. Lily got up from her chair and scooped him into her arms. Harry started thrashing in her grip and making impatient grunts. "What is with you today? You're like a wild animal."

James grinned up sheepishly from his easy chair. "It may be because I let him have some of this." He held up a red and silver can.

Lily gave her husband a disbelieving look. "You gave Coca-Cola to a _baby_?"

"Yeah. Was that wrong? He liked it."

Lily closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You. Are. A. Child."

"So he's a little wound up. No harm done."

"Well, I'm supposed to visit some people at St. Mungo's, and I can't take Harry with if he's going to be a holy terror. You're going to have to watch him." Lily slipped on a pair of sandals as she prepared to leave.

"But Sirius is coming over."

"Two men ought to be able to handle one baby on caffeine."

James sighed. "I guess. Harry will be going to bed at eight, anyway."

_That's what you think_, Lily thought as she stepped into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder.

"We'll be just fine without her, won't we, Harry? Harry?" James sat up and scanned the room. "Harry? Harry? Harry?"

...

All the pots and pans had been pulled from the lower kitchen cupboards and dragged into the living room, along with spatulas and serving spoons. Toys were scattered from the nursery to the front door. The living room shelving unit had crashed to the floor, strewing books and record albums and shattered knick-knacks everywhere. Smashed potato crisps were everywhere. The living room curtains had been torn from their hooks. A bucket was tipped on its side, spilling sand into the carpet.

James was back in his easy chair, fast asleep. Harry, wearing only an incorrectly-fastened nappie, was sitting on his little broomstick, also asleep. He hovered a foot off the floor, slowly drifting in a circle. He was sticky and filthy, covered in juice and dirt. The melted chocolate ice cream on his chubby arms matched the little hand prints all over the walls. The ice cream bowl was upside-down on the couch.

Five hours. James was alone with his son for a mere _five hours_. How could a thirteen-month-old create so much havoc? Lily walked into the kitchen (noticing that there were shoes in the oven) and poured herself a stiff drink; it was either get tipsy or murder her husband. She should have known, really. James was a twenty-one year old infant, coddled by his parents to a ridiculous degree. Parenthood had just provided him with another playmate.

Lily set the glass down with a thump and went back out into the living room. She picked Harry up off the broomstick, which feel to the floor without its rider. Her little boy was out cold, exhausted from his rampage. He didn't wake up when Lily plopped him in the sink and gave him a quick bath. A fresh, correctly pinned diaper and a onesie, and he was ready to be put in his crib.

"James. Wake up." Lily yanked the ottoman out from under his feet and he jerked awake.

"Ermgarble." James blinked up at her, disoriented.

"What in the name of Morgana happened here?" Her balled fists were on her hips, and her eyes blazed.

"Sirius only stayed half an hour before he abandoned me."

"And?" James just looked at her. "The bookshelf?"

"Harry knew that his broomstick was up there. He climbed."

"All the way to the top? How did you not see that?"

"I had to use the toilet!"

Lily put a hand in her hair and pulled, letting the mild pain distract her from the urge to strangle. "You _take him with_. I haven't had a private wee since I gave birth. Why didn't you clean up at all?"

"I'm tired. I had to chase our bloody sprog around for hours." He gave her his most charming grin. "Don't be angry with me, babe. I learned my lesson. I will never give Coke to a baby again. And now that I'm all rested up, why don't you join me in this chair?" he asked as he popped a few buttons on his shirt and waggled his eyebrows.

Physically, Lily was fine. Mentally, she felt blasted, drained by the things she had seen in St. Mungo's. But James was pulling his shirt open and doing a mock-sexy shimmy that managed to actually be enticing by dint of its sheer, uninhibited goofiness. The things that exasperated her the most about James-his playful boyishness and inability to be serious-were the very same things that made him so irresistible to her. "How about we go to bed?" she said, kicking off her sandals. "But I have to, you know, go to the bathroom to take precautions first."

James started getting out of the chair. "Do you have to? Another baby- "

"Absolutely not!" she laughed. "I'll meet you in the bedroom. You had better be completely naked by the time I get there."

"Not a problem." James started to lower his jeans as he walked down the hall to their bedroom, flashing his bum at her. Lily smirked, decided not to tell him that he had a pacifier stuck to his arse.


End file.
